


albiceleste y blaugrana.

by sacerdotal



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Argentina National Team, Drunken Confessions, FIFA World Cup 2018, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, it's not explicit-explicit, mostly just acting on feelings, sort of!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 09:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15385644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacerdotal/pseuds/sacerdotal
Summary: "I need a break," Lionel finally admits, running a hand through his hair. And Cristian understands. He nods quickly and moves to give Lionel a hug."We all do."But Cristian hardly understands the true extent of it. He can't comprehend the desperation that Lionel felt, that Lionel still feels, the crushing disappointment, the hopelessness.





	albiceleste y blaugrana.

**Author's Note:**

> The Argentina National Team is my main bias, and I have so much love for all of the players. Pavón's caught my interest recently, and he's quickly becoming a personal favourite. So much talent and potential, not to mention how handsome he is.
> 
> A moment of silence for Argentina's World Cup failures, please.

The Argentine Football Association is essentially in shambles. Lack of funds, improper management, and the team's own shortcomings in the past years. Their shameful performance in Russia is the epitome of this failure. But with Cristian, there is a sliver of hope, and Lionel would be a fool to overlook it. The talent that he sees on the field, the friendliness that he finds off of it... 

It's because of this that Lionel finds himself drawn to him, and why he's now at Cristian's door — they are back at the hotel after the disastrous match against France, as their flight back to Argentina isn't for another day or so — but maybe it's the alcohol that has ultimately brought him here, since he had a few glasses of malbec back in his and Kun's room. He's tipsy, not _drunk._

Cristian opens the door when he hears a knock. He greets Lionel with a casual "Hey," and a look of slight confusion.

"Hey," Lionel replies in return, glancing back into Cristian's room. "Uh...can I come in?"

"Yeah— Yeah, of course." Cristian steps aside to let Lionel in, who enters with a muttered thank you. The room is similar to his own, only a bit less extravagant, but still very nice. 

Cristian shuts the door after Lionel and turns to him. "What are you here for?" There's no bite in his question; it's only a bit odd that Lionel Messi would be in _his_ room. Not back in the one he shares with Sergio. Not with Javier. He hasn't hunted down Neymar's room, or Piqué's, whichever hotels they're in. _Pavón._ He is in Cristian Pavón's room.

Lionel gives a sheepish shrug. What excuse does he have? He's upset — no, more than that, he's devastated by their defeat. And maybe he thinks that Cristian could cheer him up. To see a new face of the Selection, someone who's not on the verge of retirement. 

And the admiration is mutual, of course. They're two sides of the same coin.

"I need a break," Lionel finally admits, running a hand through his hair. And Cristian understands. He nods quickly and moves to give Lionel a hug. He embraces him tightly.

"We all do."

But Cristian hardly understands the true extent of it. He has only played in this World Cup. He can't comprehend the desperation that Lionel felt, that Lionel still feels, the crushing disappointment, the hopelessness. His retirement is on the horizon, as is the unavoidable reality that he will not be able to play for as long as he wants and may never get to touch the Cup for as long as he lives.

But Lionel returns the embrace, because he won't lie — it's exactly what he needs right now, ignoring all the nuances. He leans into Cristian, and pulls him even closer to himself. The hug that Cristian had initiated becomes Lionel holding onto him like a lifeline. And in a sense, that is exactly what he is. Something new, something refreshing. A young face, just _beaming_ with talent and promise. Something to hold onto, something onto which Lionel can project his hopes and dreams for Argentina, the same way Maradona believes in him. There's just _something_ incredibly attractive about him, and it's a shame that it took alcohol for Lionel to finally do something about it.

He lets go of Cristian and takes a small step back. Cristian is giving him a look of mild surprise and excitement. It's just the two of them in the room...

Lionel rests his hands on Cristian's upper arms, his eyes slowly glancing over his torso. He's stunning. Lionel is standing in front of the future of Argentine football and for the first time, he feels that his team will be in good hands once he retires.

"Join Barcelona," Lionel suddenly utters without thinking, stepping closer. He lifts his hands to place them on either side of Cristian's face, and Cristian laughs. He reaches his own hands up to place them on Lionel's before he runs them down Lionel's hands, his arms, down his chest, his sides, to finally rest them on his hips.

"I have a contract," Cristian replies, his heart beating faster and faster. The intimacy of Lionel's gentle touches, his own hands on Lionel's sides, Lionel's drunken vulnerability...

"Leave early," Lionel suggests, looking at Cristian with an expression of gentle determination. Cristian can't tell if he's serious. "I'll pay the fee. I have— I have the money. I have more than enough."

And Cristian looks at him with a hint of bewilderment. Is that ethical? Would he really be willing to pay? Or are these simply the words of a tipsy man who lost the World Cup, and nothing more? So Cristian just laughs, looking off to the side and shifting on his feet in a moment of embarrassment. "I don't know. I don't know if I'm even worth it." Not that he's selling himself short – it's just that this is _Lionel Messi._

"Worth it?" And now Lionel is the one laughing, lowering his hands to rest them on Cristian's chest. He gives him a gentle pat. "You are. I don't doubt it. I already play with you for Argentina, but to see you in the Blaugrana..." he trails off at the thought. For Barcelona to sign such a young, talented player... For him to be able to play club football alongside another one of his international teammates... 

But maybe he's being too direct. He's usually more modest than this... "Think about it, at least. You'd be such a great addition to the team." Lionel leans forward to press a shy kiss to Cristian's cheek, and Cristian can't help but feel himself blush. The man that he's always looked up to, who he one day hoped to play alongside, _the_ Lionel Messi, showering him in so much flattery... "They'd love you in Catalonia."

Cristian's fingers curl into Lionel's shirt and he takes a deep breath. Lionel is not even attempting to seduce him, and yet Cristian finds himself under his spell. He has to admit, the idea of him wearing the same club jersey as Lionel, playing alongside him on not one but two teams ... he is tempted, as much as he loves Boca. "Okay," he mumbles, weaker than before. He nods again. "Maybe one day."

Lionel smiles, happy with that response. If not this summer signing period, maybe the next. Just hopefully before his own career at Barcelona ends, but Lionel can't think about that now. He presses another kiss to Cristian's cheek before moving down and pressing his lips along his jaw. 

Cristian bites his lip and angles his head away from Lionel, giving him room to kiss down his neck. He mumbles something about the bedroom, to which Lionel pulls himself away from him. Lionel nods his head to one side as if to ask if the bedroom is that way, and Cristian nods in return. He takes it upon himself to gently grab Lionel's wrist and hurriedly pull him in that direction. This is all a breath of fresh air, and Lionel's heart is racing when they enter the bedroom.

Cristian lets go of Lionel in order to reach down and lift his own shirt up and off of him, soon tossing it to the side. He reaches forward to do the same for Lionel, who gladly allows Cristian to do the honors. Unable to hold himself back now, Lionel walks forward to run his fingers down Cristian's bare chest. Cristian stumbles backwards a bit until he gently falls down onto the bed, Lionel now on top of him. They both pause, Lionel looking down at Cristian with nothing but admiration, and Cristian looking back with promising, eager eyes. When looking at a face like that, Lionel can't help but lean down and close the distance between them once more.

And if this is the best thing that comes out of the World Cup, then neither of them can complain.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on the Pavonessi ship porfi. The things Pavón has said about Messi, and vice versa? Worthy of a romance novel. Check out some quotes in [this article.](https://en.as.com/en/2018/06/05/football/1528186721_491835.html)
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! Thank you. ♡


End file.
